


Not Quite Noble Nobility.

by bootytoohella, Scandiaca



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!mycroft, Femslash, Idk how to tag things, every one is basically genderswapped and it's a great thing i think, fem!greg, fem!lock, genderswapped, sex in later chapters i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:53:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootytoohella/pseuds/bootytoohella, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scandiaca/pseuds/Scandiaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sherly. Are you even packed? We have to leave tonight, and you are merely laying there, face nearly purple, and it is quite disturbing.”</p>
<p>“I have packed. It is by the door.” Sherly lifts a slim hand to point to the other side of her bedroom door and smirks as Myra lets out a sound of annoyance.</p>
<p>“Sherly, that isn't packed. That is a bag with your… Equipment… You need clothes. Knickers, tights, shoes, dresses, and at least one corset.”</p>
<p>“I don’t see why I need a corset. I’m already slimmer than most other women. They would kill to have my slender frame. I know, I can see it in their eyes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my great friend, Scandiaca, who helped me get through this chapter and hopefully many more chapters to come. I love you, girl.
> 
> This is pretty much a self-indulgent work that I decided I wanted to do. My first ever fic as well.
> 
> Standard disclosure of these characters aren't actually mine, I just wrote a crazy story about them.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.

Normally for Sherly Holmes, the summer months would mean aimless wandering along her family’s property, sparse focus on her summer studies, high interest in the critters and creatures that inhabit the woods on her land. Of course, this isn’t a normal summer. Heavens no. This summer is the summer that the newest prince or princess will be born, and so she ‘must be at court and at the palace in wait for the new baby.’ Or so Myra, her older sister, says. Quite frankly, she doesn’t care about the courts or the royal family or what happens in the least if it doesn’t directly affect her. And she knows Myra knows this, she also knows that Myra doesn’t care.

This particular summer day, just before they are to leave for the palace, Sherly is laying on her bed, upside down, simply wondering how long she can last before she blacks out, her long black curls hanging off the edge of the bed and halfway down to touching the floor and her silver-blue eyes closed so that she can focus. So far her last attempt was seven minutes, she’s going for ten, when Myra walks in in her proper dress for travel, a simple and comfortable piece in pink and light brown to accent her other features, her ginger red hair pinned into a tight twist at the back of her head and a sour look on her naturally pretty face, her nose scrunched up at the bridge and her blue eyes steely and her rogue colored full lips in a pinched set. “Sherly. Are you even packed? We have to leave tonight, and you are merely laying there, face nearly purple, and it is quite disturbing.”

“I have packed. It is by the door.” Sherly lifts a slim hand to point to the other side of her bedroom door and smirks as Myra lets out a sound of annoyance.

“Sherly, that isn’t packed. That is a bag with your… Equipment… You need clothes. Knickers, tights, shoes, dresses, and at least one corset.”

“I don’t see why I need a corset. I’m already slimmer than most other women. They would kill to have my slender frame. I know, I can see it in their eyes.”

Myra makes another pinched face before schooling her features and smirking at her sister, “Yes, Sherly dear, you are very slim, but you could use a little help in the bust area. Pack your things. At least a week’s worth. If you don’t, then I will have Andrew come in and pack for you.”

Sherly bolts up from her laying position and turns to face her sister, glaring daggers. “Tell your boot licker to keep his paws off my things. I can pack for myself. And my breasts are perfectly fine!”

Myra smirks and raises a brow, opening the door and standing in front of it, Andrew waiting on the other side, “Pack your things, Sherly. We leave at quarter seven. Come along Andrew, I have things to tie up while here for the next few hours.” “Yes, m’lady.” Myra shuts the door behind herself, leaving Sherly alone once more. Sherly stands with a huff, closing her eyes and catching herself on her bedpost, nearly collapsing due to her head rush from her experiment. Once righting herself, she makes her way about her room, pulling out dresses and other articles to toss them in a suitcase, grumbling about how nosy her insufferable sister is and how her breasts are perfect for her frame and build.

##### ~*~

While Sherly is busy packing and Myra is busy with Andrew, finishing up a few items on her to do list, on the other side of the land, in the grand palace of his royal Highness King Henry and her Majesty Queen Elizabeth , Joan Watson, head nurse of the palace and royal family, spends her day gathering a few last items she will need once the baby decides it is perfectly ready to come out of it’s mother and join the world. She’s wearing one of her nice, simple dresses with her work apron and her short sandy blonde locks tied back out of her face with a small ribbon. And currently, she has in her arms her tools for assisting childbirth, swaddled in a clean towel, and she’s making her way down the halls to the kitchen.

Once at her destination, she smiles at her friend and nudges her gently to get her attention. “Georgia, darling. I need you to soak these in alcohol for me. They need to be clean.”

At this, Georgia startles slightly and gives her friend a slightly stern look, “Joan, you know I cook with that! I’m not going to soak your dirty doctor’s tools in my good alcohol.”

Joan simply pouts slightly, sticking her plump lower lip out just a little bit, not too much, and bats her eyelashes, her deep blue eyes flashing in and out of view. “Please, Georgia?”

“No, Joan. I need that for my cooking.” Georgia states firmly, she turns back to the vegetables she was busy cutting when Joan came in and interrupted her. She makes sure her scarf on her head is tight and her apron is situated perfectly before picking up her knife again.

Joan frowns and stands there for a moment before she remembers something, “Hey! You know the alcohol works, it worked with your sister’s delivery. Just soak them overnight and I’ll get them in the morning. It can be done after dinner even. Just do it. Everything needs to be right for the birth, you know that, Georgia.”

Georgia groans and rolls her eyes, always bringing up her sister. “Alright, fine! Leave them under the counter. I’ll soak them and wrap them up in the morning.”

Joan grins wide and places the swaddled tools where Georgia directs and hugs her friend tight, “Thank you, Georgia. It will help greatly, you know it.” She pulls back and rubs Georgia’s arm affectionately. “You look great today.”

Georgia rolls her eyes once more but smiles nonetheless, “Get out of here, you sap. I’m sure you have more to do than I do, I just have to cook for hundreds of people!”

Joan smiles and pats Georgia’s shoulder before leaving, she makes her way to the Queen’s chambers, knocking on the door. “Your Majesty, it’s me, Joan.” “Enter..” She pushes the door open once she gets the confirmation and smiles warmly at Queen Elizabeth, bedridden and with her swollen stomach. “My my, Your Majesty. You are looking radiant today, as always.” She places her hand on the Queen’s stomach and smiles as she feels a slight kick.

##### ~*~

Hours later and many dresses thrown about, Sherly is seated in the family carriage awaiting Myra to finish ordering Andrew about with how to sort the bags on top of the carriage. She sighs heavily and kicks her feet up, her traveling dress, a simple number with purple, black, and dark browns, slips back a bit to show off her shoes and her ankles. Smirking to herself, Sherly inches her skirts up a bit more and more and soon she’s at her knees when she catches Andrew staring at her with an eyebrow raised and Myra frowning harshly, “Sherly! Put your skirts down this instant!” She reaches in and smacks Sherly’s hands, tugging at her skirts and pulling them in place. “Put your feet down. Andrew has to sit there.”

Sherly rolls her eyes and sits up, pulling her feet back to herself and setting them daintily back on the floor with exaggerated carefulness. “My apologies, sister dear. I merely had a curious thought of what if my dress were shorter than everyone elses?” She smirks, knowing that thoughts like that fluster her sister and she settles in for an unexpectedly pleasant trip. Andrew helps Myra into the carriage and climbs in after her, settling into his seat and pulling out his notes. 

Myra settles into her seat beside Sherly and keeps her face forward, barely even sparing a glance sideways at her sister. “Sherly. I will ask this of you once. Please do behave in the palace. Do not make a fool of yourself, me, or mother and father. What you do affects the family. Know this.” 

Another roll of silver-blue eyes and Sherly brings her hand up to mock Myra, opening it and closing it like a mouth as her sister talks, bringing her other hand up to make them have a conversation. Myra catches the motions out of the corner of her eye and delivers another smack to Sherly’s hands, “And goodness sake, behave like a lady instead of a child. I know how difficult that must be for you, but do try.”

Sherly cradles her hands to her chest and glares at Myra, “You could do with some adjusting yourself. If you didn’t act as if you had your knickers in a twist and up your arse, you wouldn’t be so snooty about everything. What I was doing was harmless. You merely smacked me with no logical standing other than I wasn’t listening to you.”

“Oh for heavens… Just stop, Sherly. I still have work to do. Remain quiet for the trip and I will give you some reign in your restrictions.” Myra looks to Andrew and clears her throat, “What’s next?”

Sherly huffs and pulls open the carriage window shade, watching as the sun goes down slowly and soon watches the scenery move passed as their carriage starts on their journey. She tries to identify the different trees and plants that pass, well… successfully identifies the trees and plants. They aren’t moving too terribly fast and she can get a good enough look at them for just long enough to catalogue them and identify them. Plus, she’s seen them in her own lazy day wanderings to know what is what still so close to her family’s property.

##### ~*~

The sound of an annoyed throat clearing brings Sherly out of her mind and back into the world, she blinks a few times and looks over at her sister, obviously where the sound came from, and she raises a brow in her own brand of annoyance. “Yes, sister dearest?”

Myra sighs and shakes her head, “You weren’t even listening… I said, remember that your behavior affects the family. So keep yourself in line and I won’t have to.”

Sherly rolls her eyes and shifts a little, crossing her arms over her chest and refraining from scratching through the corset her sister forced her into. “I told me that before we left. Do you honestly think I would have forgotten it already?” She continues to look out the window, the sky dark and stars filtering through the sparse clouds. 

“I don’t know what you retain, Sherly. What with your selective memory you are oh so famous for.” Myra looks over a few more letters, snorting softly at a few of them. “Can you believe this, Andrew? Lord Fergusson is still sending requests for my favor. Poor man. Do write to him for a final time telling him that my favor is not something that is requested or bought, but earned. Also, do inform him that if he requests my hand once more, I will personally remove both of his from his boy and display them in my sitting room.” 

Andrew nods and adds it as another thing on his list of things to do, “Yes, m’lady. They would clash terribly with the decor already in place, however.”

Sherly blocks out Myra’s droning on and on and Andrew’s blind compliance in favor of listening to a composition in her mind, a ghost of a smile appearing on her lips. Which disappears just as fast as they come to a slow stop, finally arriving at the palace. “Oh thank God.” She adjusts herself once more, grumbling about how corsets are a terrible invention and should be burned, and she moves to open the door--

“Sherly! What are you doing?” Myra’s voice sounding scandalized and high pitched.

She looks back at her sister and raises a brow, “I’m getting out of this damnable carriage. What does it look like I’m doing?”

Myra looks as scandalized as she sounded, her eyes wide and mouth open in shock, “Young lady. We have not yet been announced. We can’t just waltz out of the carriage unannounced.”

Sherly stares at Myra as if she has spoken a foreign language that she doesn’t know and she clears her throat and licks her lips, bringing her hands in front of herself and clasping them. She gives Myra a pitying look before simply stating, “Are you mad.” But before Myra can retort, a double tap of the announcer’s staff is heard and Myra brings a finger to her lips to keep Sherly quite for a moment and then they are called, “Introducing, Lady Myra and Lady Sherly, daughters of the Viscount of Sussex, in place of the Viscount and the Viscountess.” Myra nods to Andrew to leave out of the other door, once he’s gone she gives Sherly a stern look that clearly says ‘Remember what I told you.’

A soft knock is heard on the door and Myra suddenly gives Sherly a quick once over, fixing her hair to be a slightly more presentable and tame pleat, tucking a stray curl behind Sherly’s ear before knocking back. Sherly makes a disgusted face at Myra and doesn’t remove it even as Andrew opens the door, she merely climbs out of the carriage and ignores the queue of people awaiting the arrival of them and other nobles. She hears Andrew clear his throat and she rolls her eyes dramatically before whipping her dress skirts out about herself and curtsying lamely. “Pleased, I’m sure.” She grumbles about stupid social rules and norms and stomps her way into the palace, keeping her perfect posture however.

Myra climbs out of the carriage, her hand in Andrew’s, and she looks over the queue of people, eyeing them all up and down, and she clasps her hands behind her back in her usual pose. “Please don’t mind her. My sister is in poor health and not in her right mind. She is merely off to look for the head nurse.” She motions for Andrew to follow after her as she makes her way into the palace.

##### ~*~

Sherly wanders around the palace, letting her eyes flow over all of the ornate furniture and decor as she walks, the sound of the other nobles and people growing quieter the father she gets from the main sitting room. Soon she finds the door to the gardens and smiles to herself, slipping through the door quietly and walking along the paths, cataloging data about the plants and other things she finds. She quickly captures a frog and holds it gently, cataloging all she can from it, without killing it of course. She doesn’t have the proper equipment for that. She does poke at it for a little, stroking her finger along it’s back and stomach, bringing it closer to her face to inspect it further.

"Oi! What are you doing? Who are you?"

The sudden voice startles Sherly bad enough that she drops the frog. She scowls at the frog as it hops away and she stands back up, turning to give the intruder a piece of her mind but stopping when her eyes land on the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. She clears her throat and straightens out her dress a bit before responding, "Sherly. Lady Sherly Holmes, daughter of the Viscount of Sussex. Who might you be, aside from the head nurse.”

The woman’s eyes widen slightly and she stumbles over her answer, just a bit, “I… Joan. Joan Watson.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She made you say the Hail Marys for your un-lady-like language, didn’t she?” the head nurse guesses with a smirk.
> 
> The ravenette smirks in return and glances down at her sudden new acquaintance, “Only once. I blew up the confessionals after that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks once again to my lovely Scandiaca who has accepted her predestined role as co-author, so all credit is given where credit is due even though she's dead set that this is just my story.
> 
> Dialogue is mostly her. I just add the chapter fluff around it all to give it some length. She writes the best parts.
> 
> Like before, I don't own these characters, well I kind of do but not really???? It's complicated.

Joan Watson. Head nurse to King Henry and Queen Elizabeth. And the most breathtaking woman Sherly has ever seen or will ever see, for that she is sure of. Sherly swallows thickly and brushes off her skirts, bringing her hands to her hips and raising a brow, trying to come off as her naturally confident and intelligent self. Too bad her tongue feels tied in knots and her corset even smaller than usual. “If you are the head nurse what are you doing so far from her Majesty? Especially with her swollen and bedridden as she is.”

Joan blinks and makes an indignant sound, her hands finding their way to her own hips, mirroring Sherly’s stance. But she somehow makes it look more intimidating. “For your information, Lady Sherly, I am allowed my own time away from her Majesty. She is merely sleeping in the safety of her chambers and guards, who will alert me to anything that happens with her or the baby.” Her eyes narrow and skim over Sherly as if she’s sizing her up and taking her in before continuing, “And if you are who you say you are, you would be inside with the other nobles, rubbing elbows and chatting them up, like that stuffy Myra.”

Sherly’s eyebrows raise at the mention of her sister and she can’t help the small smile that comes to her lips, “Thank god I’m not the only one who thinks she’s stuffy. Try living with her.”

Joan’s eyes widen and she clears her throat, her cheeks flushing lightly as she thinks over her verbal slip. “I didn’t… I apologize. I didn’t know she was your sister.” 

“No need. If it weren’t for our intelligence and our blood, I wouldn’t think she to be my sister either. But sadly, with those two damning facts, we are siblings.” Sherly crosses her arms in front of her chest, smirking at the short nurse, and she quickly tucks a curl behind her ear. 

Joan’s eyes flow over Sherly’s body once more before landing on her face at last, “You didn’t answer my other question. What are you doing out here? This is the Royal Gardens, usually no one is allowed in without permission from her Majesty.”

Sherly hums softly in thought, moving a few steps closer to Joan, clasping her hands behind her back, much like Myra, “I wandered out here in search for a quiet place in which to be alone. I happened upon a frog and then had the thoughts of dissecting it. Sadly I don’t have my proper equipment for that. Also, I wanted to get away from my sister, knowing her she wouldn’t come in here without permission from the Queen, whom I suspect is her boss.”

Joan tries to keep up with Sherly’s fast paced speech and gives her a slightly confused face. “You wandered out to the Queen’s garden, found a frog, thought of doing some science experiment on it…. All because you don’t want to be around the other nobles?”

Sherly blinks and frowns, thinking it over in her mind, “Well… When you state it like that. It sounds a bit odd.”

Joan raises a brow and smiles brightly, “Well it is a bit odd. But don’t worry. I’m out here doing the same. All of those stuffy nobles don’t know how to have a good conversation. And I enjoy looking at the moon before bed.” She shrugs and moves to stand beside Sherly, looking up at the sky and pointing up, “See? Nearly full.”

Sherly turns and looks up at the sky, humming softly, moving her arms to cross over her chest once more, eyes scanning the sky. “I don’t see the appeal. It’s just a large expanse of nothing with balls of dying gas.”

“Prioress Andrea might beg to differ,” Joan grins. 

Sherly rolls her eyes and snorts, “Prioress Andrea is a right idiot. She doesn’t know anything except for what a book tells her. Doesn’t try anything herself to see if it’s true or not. Simply takes it as truth and that’s it.” She shakes her head and continues looking up at the sky. “Nonsense. She’s stupid. She’s stupid and a bastard.”

“She made you say the Hail Marys for your un-lady-like language, didn’t she?” the head nurse guesses with a smirk.

The ravenette smirks in return and glances down at her sudden new acquaintance, “Only once. I blew up the confessionals after that.”

Joan hums in thought, nodding slightly before speaking up, “I see I am not the only one banned from service.”

Sherly blinks in honest surprise, what could this woman have done? “Really, what did you do?”

“I might have talked to a few handmaiden about… family planning.”? The blonde says with a small, sheepish smile. It’s nothing compared to blowing up the confessional but it is something. Joan takes in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly, “Well. I must be off. I’m to check on her Majesty once more before I retire to bed. I hope you enjoy your night and your stay here.” She smiles and turns to leave.

Her hand is reaching out for Joan’s wrist before Sherly even knows what she’s doing and she’s met with another confused Joan face. She clears her throat quickly and licks her lips, “Would you mind meeting me here again tomorrow? Or tomorrow night?”

Joan’s confusion slips to a soft smile and Sherly decides she will do anything to keep that smile on her face, and the blonde responds, “Tomorrow night. I’ll be here.”

Sherly lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding and she smiles in return, “Perfect. I will see you tomorrow.”

Joan shrugs and pulls her wrist from Sherly’s hold with a gentle twist, winking at the taller woman, “Probably not till tomorrow night.”

##### ~*~

Myra sighs and has to stop herself from rolling her eyes, the fifth man to count has come up to her. They have either been requesting her favor or her hand, and she has turned every single one of them down. She has no time to be worried about a husband or anything silly like sentiment or love or anything like that. She has a country to keep on it’s feet. Don’t they know that? Of course they don’t. She only occupies a small part of the courts, of course, so they wouldn’t know. She holds up her hand to get him to stop talking, giving him an icy gaze, “Lord Anthony. Do stop talking. You aren’t going to get my favor. It’s not so easily won. Save your breath and go bother someone else.” She drops her hand and walks away, finally rolling her eyes and sighing heavily. Andrew comes up to her and hands her a new wine glass, why couldn’t they all be like Andrew? Willing to do whatever she says and accepting that she is who she is. If she were even attracted to men, Andrew would be on the top of her list. She nods slightly in thanks and hands him her empty glass, sipping from her fourth as she makes her way into the kitchen.

She usually requests pies and cakes to be sent upstairs to her study. However, Myra believes it is time to take a look at the kitchen staff. And maybe, she will finally meet the person producing those heavenly blueberry scones. She stays by the door, merely watching the head of the kitchen staff order about one other person, a young man. “Samuel, how are those sausages coming? I need to know how much longer they will be.”

The young man, Samuel, frowns and worries about his station, “Not much longer, ma’am.”

“Good. They need to be done in less than two minutes. No longer.” Samuel nods and continues to worry about his work, mumbling to himself about the cooking food. Myra raises a brow and sips her wine, merely watching the two interact. So… This is who supplied her delicious treats. Not exactly what she expected, but in all honesty, she has learned to not have expectations. Unless it had to do with Andrew.

“What are you doing here?”

The sudden question pulls Myra from her thoughts and she raises a brow at the woman suddenly in her space. She looks around before fixing her focus on the other woman's surprisingly warm and hard brown eyes. “I beg you pardon?”

“Don’t pardon me. I don’t have time for any extra-wishes or nonsense. If your throat doesn’t close up for good with something, you eat what everybody else does. And believe me, I will check.” This woman has a ‘no nonsense’ sense about her, and for good reason. A kitchen needs to be run as well and as tightly as a country, at least in Myra’s mind. She smoothes a hand down her stomach and skirts, dusting off imaginary dirt, and she takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving the other woman's. “Well? You going to shove off or are you just going to stand there staring at me like I’m some bloody fresh roll?” She crosses her arms over her chest and levels Myra with a glare, daring her to make a request of her.

Myra raises a delicate brow, the only thing delicate on her, and she lets her eyes wander over the shorter woman. Simple dress, hair pulled back and scarf tied over it, possibly greying early from the grey hairs in her eyebrows, rough attitude due to work life and possibly life in general. She takes another sip of her wine and licks her lips. “I merely decided to finally meet the person responsible for baking me my delicious treats after dinner to enjoy in the quiet of my study.” 

“Well, you met her, and she has better things to do than prattle with Ladies and Lords. Off with you!”

The stern glare never leaves the woman's’ features, merely grows a bit stronger, and Myra can’t help but smirking at how cheeky the woman is. “I do admire a woman with a certain… self-assurance. However, it wouldn’t do to forget one’s place entirely, don’t you think?”

A serious eye roll is bestowed on Myra and she raises a brow in return, “Oh, don’t start. I am going to say it now and I am going to say it only once. You don’t want to piss off the woman who prepares your food.”

Myra offers a glare of her own, “Is that a threat?”

“Oh dear no, simple folk like us, we don’t threaten. We just give friendly advice.” The woman smiles. It isn’t what one would expect a smile to look like, unless one expected said smile to feel as if slime were to start seeping from between her teeth. Or if it promised death. Which this one does both. But it doesn’t necessarily disturb Myra.

“You may wish to work on your advice, dear, for it sounds more of a threat than anything.” She smiles icily, setting her wine glass on the counter before turning and leaving. Myra has never been more irritated. Not even by the grabby, handsy, needy men waiting to get her favor or worse; marry her. She ignores Andrew and all of the other nobles in the room waiting for dinner to be ready. Now, while she is irritated, she is also highly impressed. She wasn’t lying when she said that she admires self-assurance in a woman. But this one… She has something more. More cheek than assurance. She can hold her own, even against the one woman who send men quivering back home.

Myra might just be in love.

##### ~*~

Dinner comes and passes easily, quiet conversation between the nobles. None are surprised when King Henry doesn’t show, all thinking he is spending time with her Majesty, however nearly all are surprised when Sherly does make an appearance. Even if it was just to eat a roll then leave. After that, there were hushed whispers about Sherly, but that all died down with a sharp glare from Myra. Soon enough all the nobles are fed and shown their rooms, leaving Georgia, Samuel, and a few others to clean up. And after one last check up with her Majesty, even Joan comes down to help clean up. This also starts her and Georgia’s time to get together, have a drink, and chat about whatever before going to bed. Tonight is a bit different though.

As Joan walks into the kitchen with the King and Queen’s dinner dishes, just one look at Georgia tells her that something is off about her friend. “God, Woman! Please don’t tell me you are still upset about the alcohol!” She smiles slightly, trying to come off as teasing.

Georgia rolls her eyes and huffs, elbows deep scrubbing out a pot from dinner. “I should be, you and your silly procedures, but no.” She stands up and splashes water in the pot, rinsing it out a little before going at it again. “ For once, somebody was even more annoying than you.”

Joan clutches her chest in mock pain, a small smile on her lips, “You wound me so. Well, who was it? Tell me, and I will share my own special brand of irritation.” She stands beside her friend and starts to dry off the wet dishes on the counter, not having to wait long for the other woman to start talking about why she is so irritated.

“Nobles, who else? A right stuck-up one at that.Nice hips and bosom, though... Well, you know what I mean.” Georgia goes from her irritated, defiant, default tone to suddenly bashful as she goes on about the annoying woman’s features. She doesn’t have a problem pointing out how attractive someone is, gender regardless, but something about this one has her a little flustered.

“Well, aren’t they all in a well-cut corset?” Joan teases again, she enjoys picking on her friend because she knows she can take it and will return it in kind. ”So this one had the looks of an angel and the tongue of a demon?” She raises a brow and takes the offered pot, drying it off slowly as Georgia continues.

“Sounds about right. Mixed a drop of sweet talk with a barrel of insults, she did. See if she dares to request any pie tonight. I bet she wouldn’t risk it.” Georgia smirks to herself, obviously feeling a bit of pride at the memory.

“But what if she will? I know nothing leaves your kitchen that isn’t heavenly delicious. Would you change that just for one Noble?” Joan asks, sounding incredulous at the obvious threat her friend said without exactly saying it. She’s gotten the hang of catching hidden things Georgia says when she doesn’t say them, silent second meanings to her words.

Scoffing softly, “Of course not. But I don’t think she will. I scared her off good and proper.” She lets her smirk turn into a full blown grin and she hands Joan another pot, a little bit of pep in her movements as she remembers the stern talking to she gave the snotty noble earlier.

Joan can’t help but laugh and smile at Georgia’s display, shaking her head slightly, “Maybe I should let you have a go on my grievance of the day, then. Another noble. I caught her in the garden. She was poking a bloody frog!”

Georgia makes a face at the mention of the frog, her nose scrunches up at the bridge and she sticks her tongue out between her teeth a little. “Not one of those French ones, I hope? Do we have French visitors? Even if we do, I will NOT cook frogs or snails. I couldn’t use those pots again afterwards!” Her face goes back to being stern, pointing a finger at Joan as if she’s the one to blame for her ruined pots that are now being used as flower pots in her own small garden by the servant’s wing.

Joan raises a brow and smirks, her hand finding her hip and she gives Georgia a slightly haughty look, “Look who is calling the kettle black, Madame Lestrade.”

“My ancestors had the decency to ship off the homeland before such nonsense became en vogue.” Georgia defends herself and her family, murmuring to herself about how she doesn’t even like frogs or snails.

“I love it when you swear in French.” Joan grins and nudges Georgia, showing a bit of cheek and winking at her friend.

It’s Georgia’s turn to roll her eyes, which she does with more dramatics than Joan has ever or will ever do. “That wasn’t… Stop it, you. Well, was she French, then?”

Joan shakes her head and finishes the pot, moving onto the spoons and other utensils. “Not that far south, I am afraid. Lady Sherly, her name. She has a reputation of being a great grievance to her sister and an even greater disturbance to palace life. I haven’t had anything to do with her personally, before. But her reputation is something for the legends. She was plenty rude, too.”

Georgia offers a slightly surprised expression to Joan“And she got away with it? Usually you would give them a stern look and they bugger off. You’re losing your touch.”

Joan snorts and shrugs, “I don’t think Lady Sherly buggers off anywhere if she doesn’t so please.” She absently starts to place the dry utensils away, thinking back to the garden and the very beautiful woman.

“If she buggers at all!” Georgia giggles, actually giggles, like a small maiden having the time of her life, and Joan’s face turns bright red at the thought.

“Georgia! Don’t… you can’t just…!”

“Oh, you turn red as a pommongrade. Was it something I said?” Georgia laughs out right, clutching the counter edge to keep from falling over, a wide grin on her face as she looks back at her blushing friend.

“You French lot! It’s not proper!” Joan blurts out, obviously flustered. Not even the thought of someone… buggering. But the thought of Sherly buggering. It just makes her heart race and her face burn, she doesn’t even want to think about the pictures the simple words conjure in her mind.

Georgia shakes her head and smiles, recovering from her laughter, “No, but proper never suited you, Joan. Proper is for fair maidens and church-frocks.” She busies herself with cleaning up around the sink, wiping up the water and wringing out her cloth over the sink. “Samuel, I want you to sweep up in here, okay? Last thing before you can go to bed.”

Samuel nods, “Yes ma’am.”

Georgia nods in return, smiling slightly, “He’s a good boy.”

Joan watches the two and smirks at the title Samuel gives Georgia, raising a brow at her friend and mouthing, ‘good boy’ with a nods in agreement. “Oh! That reminds me, apparently Lady Sherly isn’t in Prioress Andrea’s good graces either.” She shrugs afterwards, as if trying to play it off for some reason.

Georgia grins and winks at Joan, “A women after your own? Just a bit more… rude?”

Joan sighs in exasperation, “The young ones usually are. But let them have one baby in my care. You will never hear another snotty remark out of them again!” Her expression turns stern once more, her ‘Head Nurse’ tone coming out in more than just her voice.

Georgia shakes her head and tsks softly, “I hear you. Save us from women who know nothing of labour pains. They are an unthankful lot.”

Joan nods and copies Georgia’s sound, “I would drink to that. Well, if you had something to toast with.” She grins cheekily, teasing Georgia again.

Georgia rolls her eyes but smiles at Joan, “Don’t think I can’t see right through you Joan Watson.”

“I would never dream of underestimating you, Georgia Lestrade.”

Suddenly, Joan is hit with a thought that she can't believe she forgot. She's supposed to meet with the tall, rude, odd, beautiful noblewoman tomorrow night. Oh heavens help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the second installment of the story. I'm also sorry for any and all problems with this chapter. If it flows weird, it's all my fault. I've been fighting this bad cold for the passed three days and it's disgusting, I hate myself a little for it.
> 
> If you liked it, awesome. If not, that's awesome too. I'm not keeping you here friend. It just warms my heart to know I'm still upsetting someone with my writing.
> 
> Kudos, comments, concerns about my health are all appreciated. Happy reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan places her hands on her hips and uses the tone that Georgia and even her Majesty deem her ‘No nonsense’ voice. “Don’t drug any more people, Georgia. You don’t have the experience to make it safe.”
> 
> Georgia holds her hands up, as if surrendering, and she smiles slightly, “Understood Madam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my sweet lord. I am so so so sorry that this took so long. Ugh, it was just... It just wasn't happening. And I didn't want to push through it and force it out, y'know? Otherwise it would have been terrible.
> 
> Anyway. Here it is! 
> 
> Um... Teaser sex in this chapter, I guess? It's not very explicit... But it's enough I hope? I'm sorry. I'm a terrible person. You all can cut off my hands once this is over, I promise. It also happens in the italics. So, italics = dream sequence. Got it? Awesome.
> 
> Usual disclaimer.
> 
> I do hope you all enjoy!

Directly after dinner, Myra retires to her study to start on the piles upon piles of paperwork covering her desk. She sighs deeply and bemoans again the current lack of pie in the room. With the King more concerned about his pregnant Queen than the state of his kingdom, Myra has her work cut out for her and her trusted staff. It takes a royal family to build a nation, but it takes a dedicated woman to run it. And Myra’s endless hours of sleepless planning and meticulous strategy can attest to her dedication. She bemoans again her lack of time at the palace itself. But dragging Sherly along for the ceremony has been difficult enough. Myra can only imagine the havoc and delays Sherly could have caused in someone else’s care.

Just as Lady Myra settles down into her chair, tax report in one hand, military budget in the other, her quiet sanctuary of study is intruded by the most un-quiet person Myra can imagine: Lady Sherly. She sits even straighter in her chair and levels her sister with a bored and empty stare, “Sister of mine, what are you doing back in the palace walls so early at night?” One of her shaped eyebrows raise with a sarcastic tone, a look she uses on Sherly quite often.

Sherly stand in the doorway, holding the door open as she stares at Myra, “I need one of your dozen blueberry pies that one of the sorry cooks has to prepare for you every night.”

Myra’s expression doesn’t change, but she already knows the answer to the question in her mind, “And what could you possibly want with my pie.”

Sherly gives an exasperated huff before leaning against the door slightly, “Experiment, of course! How can you be so daft?

Myra rolls her eyes and sighs, shaking her head slightly, “Of course, heaven forbid you would eat it.” She gives Sherly another moment to realise…

Sherly looks around Myra’s desk for a moment, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. She continues her search, trying to find any hints that there may have been any baked treats in the room any time before now. “You don’t have any pies.” 

Myra lets a small smirk grace her lips before she schools her features once more, adopting her usual cool indifference. “Your powers of observation are marvelous as always, Sherly.”

Sherly, however, is not so indifferent. This is an interesting new development in her night. Actually it’s quite inconvenient, but it is also interesting. Her sister does never not requests a pastry or baked good of some sort. “Not even a scone, not even a biscuit. Why did you not send for your usual midnight snack?”

Myra flushes lightly before giving Sherly an irritated look, “I don’t think that is any of your business!”

“Oh, that must be good.” Sherly smirks and crosses her arms over her chest, her stance saying that she has every intention of staying until she gets the answers she is looking for. “Did somebody say you were getting fat? Because you are gaining rapidly again, Myra.” She points out not only verbally, but also lifting a hand and gesturing in her sister’s general area of her stomach and hips.

Myra rolls her eyes and conceals a snort, smirking at Sherly, “Do you honestly believe anybody in this palace would have the nerve to even think something along these lines in my presence?”

Sherly glares at her sister’s quick emotional comeback and she mutters under her breath, “I know one person who would…”

“Oh?” Myra picks up Sherly’s muttered words like a hawk and narrows her eyes to a glare, “And who would that be?”

“The head midwife, Joan Watson!” Sherly grins, her whole stance changing to a small excited child, “She is brave and forward and not boring like all the others.” She starts pacing in front of Myra’s desk before point at her sister again, pausing in her pacing, “She would very much call you fat!” Another grin graces her lips, she looks very much like someone who is proud of accomplishing something they have been working on for many years. Which, in an odd way, she has been trying to find someone, at least one person, who isn’t boring or plain or stupid like everyone else. And who would have the backbone to stand up to her sister. Because of everyone Sherly knows, she is the only one who can, save for their parents.

Myra scowls at her sister, but tries to look indifferent as she folds her hands under her chin. “I see you have been making… friends.” Her scowl comes back for a flash at the word, obvious disdain for it. “Do tell, does midwife Joan like to work at the palace?” She clears her throat and straightens her already perfect posture, using the tone she uses in council meetings to talk to the other nobles.

Sherly is actually shocked for a moment, sputtering in her shock and sudden anger, “You will not touch her! You will not talk to her! I am warning you right now, You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.” Her face grows red and she settles a glare on Myra.

Myra raises a brow, keeping her distant air while her intrigue grows slowly under the surface. “I see, and what if I required her assistance?” 

Sherly frowns, refusing to let her lower lip push out in the pout that is obvious in her tone, along with a slightly snotty air about her attitude. “Then you will bleed to death. Simple.”

Myra sighs and shakes her head, shrugging slightly, “Well, I will refrain from falling pregnant, then. However, I will need to talk to Joan about her Majesty’s health.”

Sherly rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, “Boring. Births are boring. Tedious screaming and ridiculous amounts of blood by natural cause. Not to mention the other bodily functions that are rendered involuntary during it.”

“Well, we are all grateful you haven’t decided to a career yet. If that would be all?” Myra smirks and pulls her chair closer to her desk, picking up the military expense report once more and letting her eyes fall on it, clearly telling her sister that she is finished with the conversation.

Sherly’s frown returns for a moment before she points another finger at her sister, her stance demanding of something. “No, no, no! You don’t distract me that easily, sister dear. The lack of pies in your general vicinity is very odd indeed.” 

“If I were to enlighten you on this situation, are you going to let me work in peace?” Myra’s tone has grown exceedingly bored over the progression of their conversation and she simply wishes to finish her work, Sherly’s distractions are not helping her. 

“I may.” 

Myra sighs and sets the report down once more, refusing to bring a hand to her temple to stave off her headache. “Fair enough. I happened to meet the chief-cook today. She is most… peculiar.”

Sherly’s expression shifts to a confused one for a moment before it softens and then brightens as she connects everything, a smirk growing on her lips. “She threatened you, didn’t she? Oh, oh, OH! She did! And you were scared. Scared and impressed. Oh, this gets better and better!” Her tone is giddy with excitement at someone one upping her sister. Another one! Oh this palace isn’t so uninteresting as she had previously thought. She motions for Myra to continue, excited for more information on this new, interesting player.

Myra shakes her head, she knows better than to indulge her sister. “Oh no, I believe volunteering information without reward is highly unwise. You will have to share as well.”

Sherly feels her cheeks darken and she clears her throat, but refuses to look away from her sister. “I don’t know what you assume I could share.”

Myra lets a grin spread over her lips, her mind and emotions back in control after flustering her sister. It did always help her to get herself back in control. “Well, are we to expect a happy announcement soon? Best companions? A shared entry into a convent?” 

Sherly’s eyes widen and she has to control her voice so it doesn’t come out too high. “What!? Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but I am growing rather impatient. Leave me in peace, Sherly, unless you want me to ask questions of more delicacy.” Myra picks up the military report once more, having set it down so that she wouldn’t crumple the paper in her grip.

Sherly grumbles under her breath a moment, her mood shifting once again and the air about her growing dark. “You are despicable! And I… I… “ Suddenly, she grins wide and has an evil look in her eye, “I will go down to the kitchen. There is somebody I am dying to meet!”

At this, Myra stands and growls slightly, “Sherly!”

“Goodbye, sister-dear.” Sherly turns on her heel and waves over her shoulder before strutting out of Myra’s study, shutting the door behind herself as she walks out.

Myra sighs and mutters under her breath about how truly evil her sister is before sitting back down to finally get through the military report.

##### ~*~

Sherly does exactly as she told Myra she would do, and she walks into the kitchen, taking it in and inspecting it quietly. She walks around, searching for nothing in particular. She is there for mere moments before someone clearing their throat catches her attention and she turns towards the noise. Instantly she can see exactly how Myra was impressed with the chief-cook. Her eyes flick over the older woman and her eyebrow raises. Simple dress, stern features, surprisingly warm brown eyes, hair pulled back and covered by a scarf, and her hands on her hips to show obvious irritation. “You?”

Georgia sighs and frowns, muttering to herself as she spots the tall woman that seems to have wandered into the kitchen. “Oh no, not another high and mighty Lady.”

Sherly moves closer and looks her up and down, confusion knitting her brows together and she leans closer, as if that will clear her mind. “You?”

Georgia raises a brow and steps back a bit, bringing her hands from her hips to out in front of herself, ready to defend herself if she has to. “God, are you a bit slow?”

Sherly growls and steps back, “I am NOT slow.” She goes back to staring confused at Georgia, frowning deeply, “But you, you can’t be…”

Georgia gives a confused face, mirroring Sherly’s, frowning slightly. “What? Did you… are you drunk?” She sniffs at Sherly’s breath slightly, frowning again.

“Of course not!” Sherly glares and steps back, she stands up straight and slides a hand down her stomach, smoothing out her dress a little. “But you are not… what I expected.”

Georgia scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring slightly at the obviously crazy woman. “Well, I am sorry to disappoint. Now, if you would, I have a kitchen to clean.”

Sherly lets her eyes scan over Georgia once more, taking in her entire stance and “You met my sister today.”

Surprise graces Georgia’s features before morphing to confusion again. “I did? Oh… OH! That was your sister?” She holds back a groan, just barely, of complete disbelief that there are actually two of these crazy Lady’s.

Sherly hums in assent and crosses her arms over her chest, curiosity in her eyes and tone. “Yes, sadly. And you yelled at her. And you impressed her. How could you have done that?”

“I am … what? Are you sure you are not drunk? You seem a little… off. Why don’t you lie down My lady.” It seems confusion is the theme for Georgia tonight, she can’t seem to shake it, as she tries her hand at Joan’s gentle bedside manner.

Sherly actually looks scandalized at the suggestion and she scoffs, “Lie down? Tedious, boring, dull! I will not sleep for another week if I can help it.”

Disbelief is back and Georgia stares at the other woman as if she’s got two heads. “How long… how long have you been awake?”

Sherly shrugs, waving her hand and replies in a bored tone as if it doesn’t matter, because really it doesn’t. “Three or four days.”

“That explains a lot.” Georgia mutters to herself before smiling slightly at Sherly, motioning to the stove, “Why don’t you I make you a nice cuppa.”

Sherly raises a brow and makes a hand gesture for Georgia to hurry it along because she has other things to be doing rather than waiting around in the kitchen with her sister’s love interest. “Well, you better. Otherwise this trip would have been a waste of time!”

“Clearly related.” Georgia murmurs to herself again, shaking her head and moving to the stove to heat the water. It takes a short moment and she’s more than happy when the awkward silence between them is broken by her moving about her kitchen. She adds a subtle soother to the tea, normally she just uses it when she can’t sleep, but decides it might help Sherly as well. Georgia hands the cup to Sherly, who takes it and downs it in a few sips, flinching slightly at the horrible heat. Georgia waits a minute, her eyebrows knitted together in concern and slight curiosity.

Sherly, already a bit drowsy, licks her lips and sets the cup down, “I don’t like your tea… ‘s tastes stupid.”

Georgia gasps softly at just how quick the tea affects Sherly, a hand instinctively reaches out to steady the thin woman, making sure she doesn’t fall over. “Heavens, you must have been at the brink of sleep! Now how do I get you up to your rooms?” 

Georgia has one of her arms around Sherly’s waist and one of Sherly’s arms around her shoulders, holding up the taller woman with only slight difficulty simply because the younger woman is a bit… grabby. She’s fending off a grabbing hand just as Joan walks in, “Georgia, how are you… Sherly?”

Sherly perks up and smiles easily, trying to stand up to move over to the woman but stumbling slightly and grabbing onto Georgia’s shoulder for support. “Joan? Oh, oh.. yes. Joan, hello! Is it time for our rend… rend- … meeting?”

Joan smiles slightly and has to bite her lip to keep it from growing. “Well, no it’s not. That’s tomorrow night..”

Sherly’s excited expression turns confused and slightly sad, she pouts a little and tilts her head in question, “Why?”

Georgia raises a brow, surprise evident in her features, “This is her? The Lady with the frog? God, I should have known.” She shakes her head and huffs out a long sigh, looking back up at Joan, “ Apparently, she hasn’t slept in four days. Get her to lie down somewhere, would you? I really can’t have that nonsense in my kitchen right now.”

Joan frowns and looks over Sherly, her frown deepening. “Please, don’t drug any more people.”

Georgia tries to pull an innocent look and shrugs slightly, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Joan places her hands on her hips and uses the tone that Georgia and even her Majesty deem her ‘No nonsense’ voice. “Don’t drug any more people, Georgia. You don’t have the experience to make it safe.”

Georgia holds her hands up, as if surrendering, and she smiles slightly, “Understood Madam.”

Joan nods slightly, appeased with Georgia’s apology for now, and she motions for Georgia to give her Sherly, “Hand her over. I’ll take her to her rooms.” 

##### ~*~

Joan copies Georgia’s hold, her arm around Sherly’s waist and Sherly’s arm over her shoulders, and she guides Sherly out of the kitchen and up the stairs, enjoying the silence while it lasts. But of course, Sherly starts talking. When does the woman ever stop?

“You are very strong.” Sherly smiles and leans more against Joan, just to see if the woman can hold her still.

Joan snorts softly and shoves Sherly slightly to get her to walk more on her own feet than leaning against her. “Midwife, remember? Takes muscle to pull out the little ones.”

Sherly scoffs and makes a weird face, her nose and mouth pinching up slightly. “Birth is stupid.”

Joan raises a brow and looks up at the other woman, stifling another laugh at her face. “Oh?”

Sherly nods, set in her decision that birth is in fact stupid. She frowns slightly before shrugging, “Not mine. Mine was good.”

Joan chuckles quietly and smirks, “Of course.”

Sherly smiles at Joan’s laugh and she decides she needs to hear it over and over, several different ways, find out how many different laughs Joan has. “Yours, too.”

Joan blinks and raises a brow, her smirk growing. “Well, thank you.”

Sherly grins wide, obviously proud of her perfect compliment. “You are welcome.”

Joan laughs lightly and squeezes Sherly a little, teasing her a bit, “So you do know how to be nice” 

Sherly struggles against the tighter hold, “I am not nice! I am never.. never nithe.”

Joan startles slightly and blinks at Sherly, raising a brow and poking at her slightly. “Did you… could you repeat that?”

Sherly giggles, actually giggles, and it’s a beautiful crystalline sound. “Repeating ith for thupid people.”

Joan clears her throat to cover her groan, why is this stumbling, lisping, blushing woman getting to her like this? “Well… anyway. Let’s get you to your room.”

Sherly nods, a smile on her lips, and she tugs Joan slightly to get them moving faster. “Yeth… my room. You need to come to my room.”

Joan rolls her eyes and shakes her head, they make it to Sherly’s room thanks to the taller woman’s tugging and pulling. She sighs out, exasperated, “And you need to sleep.”

Sherly pulls away, actually climbing up into her bed and she settles into the pillows, sighing heavily. “I don’t thleep. Thleeping ith boring.”

Joan smiles slightly as she watches Sherly basically crawl into bed and settle down. “Well, you will have to make do.” She moves over and lays a blanket over her, making sure it covers her completely. “Now, god knows why you are not wearing a corset, but it’s a blessing. Now, sleep tight, Sherly. You look like you need it.”

Sherly makes a face and peeks an eye open, “Joan…”

Joan stops and looks down at the barely awake noblewoman. “What?”

“Thorry, I didn’t make our meeting tonight.” She frowns slightly, her lower lip actually pushes out a little, and she opens her other eye to get a better look at the other woman.

Joan smiles softly and strokes Sherly’s hair gently, leaning over to press a small kiss to her forehead, “It’s fine, Sherly. We will do it tomorrow.”

Sherly smiles and closes her eyes, slowly falling into a deep sleep, her smile still playing on her lips. Joan waits for a moment, making sure she’s asleep, before turning and leaving her in the dark. Sherly shifts slightly, moving to lay on her side and she presses her face deeper into her pillow, the feeling of Joan’s lips still fresh on her skin and her mind supplies phantom feelings of how they would feel against other parts of her body.

##### ~*~

_Sherly rolls her eyes, how could Myra force her to go to a stupid ball of all things? And she doesn’t even know what it’s for! Honestly. Her sister is going to get an earful with the way these events are playing out. If it were up to her, Sherly would be home conducting experiments like she wants to do. She leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, a champagne flute hanging limp from her fingers of her right hand, and her eyes glancing over the heads and faces of the dancing drones._

_She stands there for what feels like hours before she finds the one person she least expected to be there. Joan Watson comes walking in, wearing a lovely and very flattering deep blue gown that makes her skin seem tanner and her eyes brighter. She has her hair pinned up in an elegant fashion, hand made curls frame her face and small jewels glitter around her neck and at her ears. And dear god, Sherly thinks, Joan is absolutely breath taking._

_Their eyes meet and Sherly feels her cheeks darken, her blush actually bridges over her nose and goes down her neck under Joan’s continued scrutiny. The shorter woman makes her way over to Sherly, practically gliding along the floor of faceless people stuck in a meaningless dance. Sherly swallows thickly and she chews on her lip until it’s red and raw. Joan stops barely a foot from her and smiles at her in the only way Sherly has seen, kind and full of understanding with something hidden underneath. Joan’s hand slips into Sherly’s and she watches as the blonde woman nods her head back to the door she came from. “Why don’t you and I go have a ball of our own, yeah?”_

_Sherly nods and suddenly finds herself following Joan down an unfamiliar hallway to an unknown room, their hands linked together and their breaths already coming in fast. Her bright grey-blue eyes never leave Joan’s figure, not wanting to lose this image of this wonderful, amazing, beautiful woman. Sherly blinks and then they’re in the room, obviously Sherly’s guest room, she’s sitting on the bed in just her slip, her own gown shed somewhere on the floor along with her shoes and stockings, and she’s watching Joan strip herself of her gown. Sherly stands up and moves over to her, ghosting her hands over Joan’s sides before finding her gown opening._

_She takes her time with opening Joan’s gown, wanting to drink it all in like she didn’t when she herself stripped. Once Joan’s gown is laying on the floor and she’s standing clad in only her slip like Sherly, she cups Joan’s cheeks and leans down to press their lips together. To her surprise, Joan lets her guide their first kiss, and to her further surprise, she hasn’t messed it up yet. Joan lets Sherly continue before taking control and she guides her backwards toward the bed once more, leaning her back and sliding a hand along her side, stopping just under her breast right on her ribs._

_Joan pulls back and looks down at Sherly and smiles warmly, “I wish you could see yourself, Sherly… You look so beautiful. I can’t wait to have you…” She leans down and presses their lips together once more, firmer and with a more clear path to get what she wants. She licks into Sherly’s mouth and it causes a surprised noise to claw it’s way out of Sherly’s throat. Joan giggles softly and moves to kiss along Sherly’s neck and chest, licking at the top of her breast that isn’t covered by the slip._

_They work the silk slips over their heads, leaving each other bare for the other, and Sherly’s earlier blush returns with a vengeance, coloring her skin from her hairline down to the tops of her breasts. Joan smiles and cups one of Sherly’s breasts, eliciting a gasp from her lover, and she leans down to press a sweet kiss to her other nipple before licking it over and over, suckling on it gently, and she listens to Sherly’s sweet and soft gasps and moans like they are a symphony._

_Sherly arches her back and moans out, she drags her nails along Joan’s back and up into Joan’s hair, the pins holding not only her hair but also Sherly’s have been removed for some time and now their hair simply is a large mess atop both of their heads. Joan trails hot kisses down Sherly’s sternum to her stomach, dipping her tongue into her navel a few times before sucking marks in a line down to her curl covered mons. She nuzzles the dark curls there and peppers a few kisses to the flesh before glancing up at Sherly, just to make sure she’s watching._

_At the first touch of Joan’s tongue to Sherly’s most intimate area, it practically whites out Sherly’s mind. Her vision goes white, her brain fuzzes over, and she lets out a surprised shriek. Her hands tighten and loosen over and over in Joan’s hair as she licks and laves and has her way with her cunt. A deep, hot pressure builds in Sherly’s stomach, low in the pit of her belly, and after a few more moments of attention from Joan, she squeals and moans out. Her toes curl sharply in the sheets and her back arches hard up off the bed, tears fall from her eyes and down her temples to her hair. She feels Joan’s mouth move along her stomach and chest and up her neck, a small smile plays on her lips as she whispers against Sherly’s ear._

_“Sounds to me that you liked it… Care to go again to collect more data?”_

##### ~*~

After dropping Sherly off to bed, Joan wanders the halls to make sure everyone is sleeping well. The sounds of retching bring her to one of the Lady’s rooms, a frown etched in her features, and she tries to comfort the heaving woman as much as she can. She’s interrupted by a maid calling for her, “In here! Who is it? What’s wrong?”

The maid, Angela, one of Joan’s favorites, hurries into the room and her face is ashen and her eyes are wide, “Miss Watson, the other Lady’s….” She swallows thickly and shakes her head, “The other Lady’s visiting have fallen ill as well… What.. What should we do?”

Joan’s eyes widen and she looks down at the woman she’s comforting before she looks back up at Angela, “Angela, care for her… I don’t know what to do right now… Make sure she drinks some water once she’s finished, can’t have her ill and dehydrated. I have to make sure her Majesty is alright.”

Angela nods and takes Joan’s place beside the hunched over woman, groaning and heaving into a bucket. Joan washes her hands quickly before leaving, drying her hands on the back of her apron as she makes her way to the guest study instead of the Royal chambers. She has someone else to talk to instead of her Majesty.

##### ~*~

Joan knocks on the large wood door and bites her lip nervously, she’s heard many things of Lady Myra, but she quickly steels her nerves. She is the Head Midwife of Queen Elizabeth. She has nothing to be afraid of from a noblewoman. She opens the door after a moment and clears her throat, “Lady Myra?”

Myra sighs and mutters to herself quietly, “Why can’t they let me work in peace.” She looks up with a very bored expression on her face, “And you are?”

Joan straightens her spine and levels Myra with a steady gaze, “Head Midwife Joan Watson, M'lady.” She makes sure her voice is clear and doesn’t waver, she has a whole palace to make sure is safe to bring a baby into, she doesn’t have time for nerves. “I was told to inform you of any concerns regarding our Majesty’s birthing.”

Myra raises a brow and sits up a bit straighter, motioning for the other woman to enter with a small wave of her hand. “You are correct in your information. What concerns do you have or have you been told?”

Joan shuts the door and moves closer, standing just in front of the large desk the taller woman is behind, and she clasps her hands in front of herself, “I fear all the visiting noblewoman have fallen ill suddenly. With what, I am not sure. But I do know that anything that can get around to adults so suddenly is terrible for an infant. And her Majesty is due any moment, from in the next minute to this Thursday.”

Myra frowns and looks down at her papers, an unknown illness that has taken only the visiting women and her Majesty could go into labor at any given moment… “Well… There seems to be only one clear option here, don’t you think?” She stands and slides her hands down the front of her gown before clasping them behind her back, “Fetch Sherly Holmes. I put her in charge of finding what has caused this illness and finding a cure as quick as possible. We cannot have that baby born during this.”


End file.
